Soul Stealer
by xxlostdreamerxz
Summary: Sick and tired of being kept in the dark, Harry is ready for a change. Will an ancient stranger have the answers Harry is looking for? Who can you trust if you were the savior of a turncoat world? Blood is thicker than water and stronger than prophesies.
1. Default Chapter

**Soul Stealer**

**By: xxlostdreamerxz**

Disclaimer: I don't own HP.

_"Telepathy"_

Summary: A touch of magic could change all of eternity, time, space and reality. Harry is sick and tired of being kept in the dark like some misbehaving waif. Day by day, Harry's trust and respect for the wizarding world diminishes, which in effect fuels his determination to take a stand once and for all. However, it is not easy for a puppet to break free of its bonds. And when the perfect opportunity present itself...freedom and justice may be at hand.

* * *

_Nothing dies so long as it is not forgotten._

* * *

The stars were twinkling peacefully overhead, as the wind whispered soothingly as it danced through the alleyways of Nightmare End. The cobbled street had just about fallen completely into rubble while the rest was covered completely with dirt and grime. A few old dingy shops stood sternly against the flickering magical fires of the torches, giving it a dark and mysterious feel.

Should any man or wizard say..._accidentally_...walked in uninvited into such dangerous territory. His life would be at forfeit the moment he set foot past safety of the adjacent street also known as Knockturn Alley.

Seeing as such, no_ sane_ individual - magical or otherwise, should be stupid enough to dare set foot in the confines of Nightmare End...

Nevertheless, such rules did not seem to apply to the man that was casually strolling...no, prowling... towards Nightmare End. The man suddenly stopped a few feet across the entrance as a slightly frown graced his handsome features. He raised his hand and tilted it palm up, and whispered a few words underneath his breath...

At that moment, in a great burst of light and ice, a dark angelic bird emerged from the palm.

_"Lorelei..."_ greeted the dark man, as it bowed its head slightly at the silver blue creature._ "It's been a long time, old friend."_

The bird released a melodic thrill sending ice travel down the man's spine. Lorelei always had this effect on him...it was as disconcerting as it was beautiful.

_"So long as the wind screams, the ice burns, and blood runs free...I shall always come at your call,"_ whispered Lorelei, as she flapped her metallic silver wings in greeting. The bird paused for a moment, before continuing in a less cold tone._ "Yes...it has been centuries since you have summoned me, Sigurd. How may I offer my services._"

The dark man, Sigurd, chuckled lightly at his friend's tone._ "I see that a few centuries of rest has done you some good,"_ he said teasingly._ "After all, you haven't tried tearing out my throat yet for the matter."_

Lorelei let out the bird equivalent of a hiss._ "It keeps you on your toes."_

_"Yes...after all, having death on my heels after all these years is quite useful...in more than one way."_

The bird tightened her hold of Sigurd's shoulder, as she gave him a dark glare._ "Don't tell me you called me for** that** reason..."_

For the first time tonight, Sigurd sighed. His shoulders slumped slightly as he closed his eyes shut in pain. _"I'm sorry Lorelei..."_ he whispered softly._ "I just can't get it out of my mind. It haunts me...second by second...I just can't control it anymore."_

_"Then** learn** how to, your stupid fool!"_ cried Lorelei, as she screeched in agitation._ "You cannot change history...magic, just for your own connivance."_ The bird ruffled her feathers furiously as if to show her displeasure._ "Your past is gone..."_ she hissed furiously,_ "There is nothing you can do to change it, nor try to salvage it. Your family has been dead for centuries..."_

Sigurd shook his head sadly._ "No, Lorelei. You are wrong,"_ he said slowly._ "There is still one left...the last to my line. He is alive and well; however, he is in great danger."_

_"It is** his** life, and destiny. Not yours,"_ stated Lorelei coldly. _"Had you any sense at all, you would understand that he has to face it all alone...as it was prophesized."_

Sigurd suddenly straightened and turned about to stared at Lorelei straight in the eye._ "You forget your place, Lorelei,_" he said sharply, as his golden brown eyes gleamed dangerously._ "Are you suggesting that I should allow my last and remaining heir to fight that...demon...without any source of preparation?"_ The man leaned closer to the silver blue bird and whispered harshly,_ "And allow him to be used and sacrificed as nothing more than a pawn?"_

_"Sigurd..."_

The man shook his head._ "No, I have made my choice,"_ he said coldly._ "We will leave at dawn..."_

* * *

The last shadows of dawn stretched out across the horizon, as a pair of song birds trilled with cheer as they perched upon the old elm tree in the backyard of 4 Privet Drive. A giant tire swing hung against the tree, which swung back and forth in the breeze. This house just seemed to exude an aura of conformity and normalcy; however, a particular occupant who resided within said house were not normal by any means.

A small shadow sat huddled against the windowsill, as he stared out blankly at the morning sky. Today, the sky was a beautiful masterpiece with delicate strokes of red, yellows, and oranges scattered about, only to be dotted with a few hints of pure fluffy white clouds. In other words, it was exquisite. However, such beauty did not seem to affect the boy, for he continued staring blanking outside as if he was dead to the world.

And in a way, he was.

The boy was tall and slender, though a bit on the thin side. Messy black bangs fell over his face, framing the delicate lightning shaped scar that stood blatantly against the white pallor of his skin. His eyes, which were once a shade of sparkling emeralds, had now been reduced to a dull green. The boy was a mess, dressed in an extremely large black hand-me-off from his cousin and a set of baggy pants that was tightly held up by a thin ragged brown belt. This boy, was none other than Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, and of course the supposed savior of the world.

However, at the moment, Harry felt nothing like the supposed savior that he was made out to be. Instead, he felt like...

...a fool.

...a failure.

...and lastly, a murderer.

A few weeks ago, Voldemort had sent him a vision of Sirus being held hostage within bowls of the Department of Mysteries. Harry, now that he look back upon it, had been a fool. Even after facing Voldemort for all these years, he truthfully had not learned anything whatsoever. The only reason he'd ever survived any of those previous meetings with the bloody Dark Lord, was simply due_ luck_. Nothing less, nothing more.

And he concluded that eventually, his luck would run out.

Sirus...his beloved godfather had been the price for his foolishness. Harry bowed his head in pain as an image of Sirus falling into the veil flashed across his mind's eye. God, he missed him.

Sirus...Padfoot...Snuffles...

The man had been the only real family he's ever had. Harry lips drew into a bitter smile. It was ironic, as it so seemed that in a single moment, that Harry had managed to destroy the one thing that he'd every truly wanted in life - a family. If it hadn't been for him, Harry knew that this wouldn't have happened. It was_ his_ fault.

All his fault.

At the end of the term, he'd been determined to blame Dumbledore for everything that happened at the Department of Mysteries. However, now that he looked back at it, Harry knew that he was wrong. Dumbledore, being who he is, was determined to give him a childhood and protect him from the world. The headmaster had the right intentions; however, none of his plans ever seemed to work out. Harry had grown up in a cupboard, and had a miserable childhood. And by withholding the prophecy, well...the headmaster had broken his trust.

Nevertheless, he still couldn't put all the blame on Dumbledore's age-worn shoulders. Sure he didn't trust the man any longer, but Harry knew deep down that Dumbledore was not the cause of Sirus' death.

Harry was so lost in his thoughts that he did not notice a darkly cloaked man appearing out of thin air in his room. However, Hedwig did see the man and felt the magic that was oozing off of him and began screeching in fear.

In that short space of time, Harry drew his wand and whirled about to face his visitor with a curse ready on the tip of his tongue.

_"Well, well, well...I must admit, I'm impressed." _

* * *

**A/N:** Well, how was it? Good? Bad? Blah? P This story was the product of stress and well, school. I got a bit tired of writing my other HP fics since they're WAY AU, so I decided to write one that would stick a bit closer to the norm. (Don't worry, I'm just taking a short break from my other fics while I brainstorm a bit). Umm...but then again, this story** does** branch off quite a bit, and probably will become AU later on. Right now I've just got so many idea bouncing through my head, I simply don't know what to write next. Basically, in this story its going to be Harry vs. Dumbledore, Voldemort. I love to read and hopefully be able to write stories where Harry is smart, and cunning and actually knows how to maneuver himself in society. Sure, I mean I also love writing and reading super-power fics; however, right now, I think this story isn't going to be a Super-power Harry. Harry will be strong, but not insanely so. I'm not going to spoil the rest of the fic by telling you more, since I seem to be rambling here...so R/R!

**HELP!**

1) Hey, do any of you guys have any idea how I can revise my summary? I think it sucks.

**Check out my other fics!**

_Darkly Treacherous _

_Light in the Shadows_

_Spell of Time_

_Seductive Darkness_

Well, that's all for now!

**Thanks again! lub**

**xxlostdreamerxz**


	2. Ancestral Acquaintance

**Soul Stealer**

**By: xxlostdreamerxz**

**Disclaimer: No, I do not own HP. **

* * *

_"Well, well, well...I must admit, I'm impressed." _

* * *

Without warning, Harry took a step back and launched off a stunning spell towards the dark-haired stranger. 'Constant Vigilance,' he thought warily, as he shot off a couple more spells just in case the stranger managed to dodge the first stunner. After all, so long as he managed to_ paralyze_ the stranger, he should be relatively safe...

Harry had no idea how wrong he was.

The stranger raised a slender eyebrow in amusement as he watched five beams of magic shoot towards him. His dark brown eyes glittered with magic as he raised his hand towards the oncoming spells...and **_flicked_** them back. Harry watched with varying degrees of disbelief as he watched his spells bounce back towards him.

'Oh shit...'

Acting on instinct, Harry dove behind his trunk which he'd tossed aside earlier that week. Cursing softly under his breath, Harry quickly muttered a quick 'Protego.'

'Boom!'

Harry closed his eyes shut as thick splinters of wood and glass tear through the air - cutting him up in the process. Though his shield charm protected him from the magical backlash, it did not protect him from the various debris that was whipping dangerously about in the air. When he felt the wind start to slow, he quickly shot out from behind the remains of the trunk. It was too dangerous to hide right out in the open when your opponent knew exactly where you were.

"INNUENDO!" he screamed defiantly, as a dark flaming fireball emerged from the tip of his wand. The fireball was small and yellow at first; however, over the next few minutes it began growing in size and power until it turned into a deep deadly electric blue. Harry's emerald green eyes focused on the stranger's brown ones, he felt a small stab of pride when the stranger's eyes widened in surprise.

The Mystic Fireball Curse was a fairly hard spell to cast; however, it was extremely useful in battle. The spell took took extreme concentration and leached away quite a bit of the caster's magical reserves. Nevertheless, risky as it was, it was the perfect spell for Harry. Seeing as how the teen refused to outright kill, the Mystic Fireball Curse was perfect since it would electrify and burn away its victim's magic. It wouldn't kill, but rather paralyze the victim both magical and physically.

The stranger shook his head mockingly._ "Stupid boy,"_ he grumbled softly as he waved his hand and dispelled the curse. Much to Harry's shock and disbelief. _"Don't you know how to treat a guest?"_

Harry stared blankly at the man. "A guest?" he repeated dumbly, and for a second it was all that he could do not to just drop down and start gibbering. Who in the name of hell was this weirdo? "You stormed into_ my_ house, shot spells at me..." he said slowly, "...and you call yourself a_ guest?_"

The man frowned._ "I didn't attack you,"_ he muttered childishly._ "I just reflected the spells back at you."_ The dark haired man's frown lifted slightly when he noticed that Harry had stopped attacking._ "Good, now that you're done with this nonsense,"_ he said with a slightly sneer,_ "...we can finally get down to business."_

"Business?"

_"Yes,"_ stated the stranger sternly, as he waved his hand and conjured a few spare chairs. The man walked towards the squishy-chair in the far corner and flopped down before letting out a sigh of content._ "Well boy, what are you waiting for? Take a seat already,"_ he said motioning towards the chair in front of him.

Harry bit his lip nervously as he eyed the chair apprehensively. It wasn't like as if he_ had_ a choice. The stranger was obviously stronger than him, and could probably kill him without any effort. Nevertheless, he refused to sit so close to the stranger since it would prove to be nearly impossible to dodge any attacks at such a close range.

The man let out an impatient sigh as he ran his hand through his long messy locks of brown hair._ "Look kid, the chair isn't a Portkey alright? And I'm not going to curse you, so for the love of god** please** take a seat already!" _

"Move it back."

The man blinked. _"I beg your pardon?"_

"The chair, move it back," said Harry evenly, as he gestured towards the opposite corner of the room. Seeing that the man hadn't even made a move, Harry growled slightly at him. "Well, 'what are you waiting for' then?" he mimicked, as his lips twisted in a slightly smile. Ever since the previous events at the Department of Mysteries, Harry has had a few...eh..._issues_...with containing his anger when provoked.

However, much to Harry's disappointment. The man just smiled in response. _ "It seems you and I understand each other perfectly,"_ he said casually and in a blink of an eye Harry's chair disappeared only to reappear at the corner of the room._ "Though I'm not looking forward to screaming at each other across the room,"_ he said with a frown, before shrugging._ "...that's the price one has to pay when they wish to talk to an overly paranoid teenagers..." _

Said overly paranoid teenager was silently scowling at the man as he sat down slowly. For the first time tonight, Harry stared at the man and carefully memorized his features. The stranger had long dark brown hair that was tied into a pony-tail and his shaggy bangs framed his face in a way that reminded him of Sirus. The man had a pair of chocolate brown eyes that was surrounded by weary lines of age, and from what Harry could see, the stranger looked to be around his mid-forties.

_"Please, I know that I'm handsome, but seriously, try to cool those hormones of yours,"_ said the man with an arrogant smirk which widened even more when he caught sight of Harry's disgusted expression. The man smirked to himself. 'Teenagers, boy were they fun to tease...especially that descendent of mine.'

(A/N: NO this will NOT be Harry/Sigurd. That is just plainly wrong on so many levels.)

Harry's lip curled in disgust. 'Disgusting old pervert,' he thought as he mentally shuddered. However, instead of arguing the point, Harry sighed in defeat and asked, "Who are you?"

The stranger smirked._ "I have many names,"_ he said mysteriously._ "...I have walked the face of this earth for thousands of generations, fought in hundreds of battles of legend, and yet...I am feared above all."_

"Are you a vampire?" asked Harry as he raised his wand threateningly, causing the man to burst out loudly in laughter.

_"A** vampire**?"_ repeated the dark-haired man in between chuckles._ "Lad, you give me too much credit. I am not a vampire...though I wish it was the case,"_ he finished sounding slightly sad.

Harry frowned in confusion. The man actually_ wanted_ to be a vampire?

_"Regardless though, my given name in Sigurd,"_ the man introduced as he gave Harry a curt nod._ "And above all...I am also your ancestor." _

"..."

"WHAT!"

* * *

$- 2 hours later -$

* * *

A defeated Harry slumped back against his chair, as he stared in disbelief at Sigurd -his ancestor. It had taken him quite some time before he'd actually started to believe the man's story. It was absolutely absurd! He actually had a living, breathing relative...

_"Lad, I trust you aren't getting horny on me or anything, right?_"

...no cross that, make it an extremely_ annoying,_ perverted relative. Harry shot Sigurd a dark glare only to have his ancestor burst out in laughter. Harry tossed his hands up in defeat. The man was simply incorrigible. It took all of his willpower to prevent himself from strangling Sigurd and permanently silence the man.

_"Well boy, do you have anything to say?"_

Harry pursed his lips stubbornly and glared back.

Sigurd sneered back._ "If that's all, I suppose I should get on the move,"_ he said with a delicate shrug, causing Harry's eyebrow to twitch in annoyance._ "After all, I am a busy man..."_

"Why...?" blurt out Harry before he could prevent himself.

Sigurd blinked._ "Are you asking 'why' I am a busy man?"_ he asked curiously, as if he hadn't been expecting such a question.

Harry shook his head in denial. "No," he said while rolling his eyes in exasperation. "I was wondering_ why_ you chose to come now of all times to visit me."

The room fell silent at those words, and Sigurd slumped back against his chair before letting out a sigh of defeat._ "Well...if you really want to know the whole truth..."_ he said slowly, as he closed his eyes in pain._ "I suppose I should tell you about my past...and** what** I am..."_

"What?" repeated Harry dumbly. "You _are_ human aren't you?" he asked tentatively.

_"No lad, I am not,"_ whispered Sigurd, his eyes still closed in remembrance._ "I am worse than the foulest beast to walk this earth, and I have committed sins beyond retribution."_ The man let out a bitter bark of laughter which sounded more like a sob._ "I have cursed my family line..."_ he glanced at Harry,_ "Yes, **our** family. I was a fool to have done what I did, and I had to pay the ultimate price for it..."_

Harry froze when Sigurd's dead glaze focused upon him.

_"...as will you."_

* * *

A/N: Yea! Another chapter completed! I think I'm going to have fun writing this story. It doesn't seem...eh...tooo AU yet. Nevertheless, I'm a bit stuck on my Darkly Treacherous story so I think I'm going to update this fic for awhile until some inspiration comes back. P Well, that's about it. Thanks to all those that reviewed last chapter!

**SPECIAL THANKS TO:**

**Deanine**

Thank you soo much for the summary! You're definitely talented with words. -

And of course, once again. Thanx to all those who bothered to review!

$-lub-$

**xxlostdreamerxz **


	3. Lord Aeolus?

Soul Stealer

By: xxlostdreamerxz

Disclaimer: I don't own HP...

* * *

_ "Yes, **our** family. I was a fool to have done what I did, and I had to pay the ultimate price for it..."_

Harry froze when Sigurd's dead glaze focused upon him.

_"...as will you."_

* * *

Harry who had been sitting at the edge of the sofa tense with nervousness, flinched slightly as if Sigurd had just dealt him a physical blow. With a loud sigh, he slumped back against the chair and covered his face in his arms and groaned. "Why me?" he asked, after a few moments of silence. "Bloody hell, I wasn't even _involved _this time! I already have enough problems on my plate as it is, I don't need another curse."

_"That's where you are wrong," _retorted Sigurd, as he ran his hand through his thick black locks in frustration. _"Look kid, I know that your life probably seems like nothing more then a pain in the ass,"_ he said dryly, causing Harry's lips to twitch in amusement. _"But there are things actually worth living for; however, in order to protect them, you'd need to pay a price. _

"Tell me something I don't know," Harry grumbled to himself, ignoring his ancestor's frown. He hadn't realized it back them, but he'd basically traded one prison for another. As a child, Harry had always hated living with the Dursleys...always being the one left out, neglected, and abused. However, was the wizarding world any better? When times were rough, he was a convenient scapegoat and of course the 'attention seeking brat'; otherwise, he was their hero. Nothing more, nothing less. This was the price that he had to pay for learning magic, and Harry_ hated_ it.

_"Done yet, brat?"_ complained Sigurd as he twitched slightly in his chair. _"We don't have time for this,"_ he said sternly, _"Your bloody headmaster might be able to feel my presence here if I stay any longer." _ With a wave of his hand, he quickly dispelled his chair and motioned for Harry to stand up. Seeing Harry open his mouth in protest, Sigurd added, _"Do not worry lad, I will be back in around..."_ he glanced down at his watch,_ "...in two weeks worth of time."_

"But...you haven't told me about the family curse, yet!" said Harry indignantly, "Or...what you are."

Sigurd turned and smiled slightly._ "Yes...well I suppose I did promise to tell you,"_ he said slowly._ "However, I'm just not in the mood right now,"_ he said with a yawn.

"WHAT!" exclaimed Harry. "What kind of bloody excuse is that!"

_"The truth,"_ he replied lazily, as he reached out to scratch his head. Sigurd frowned slightly when he saw Harry's disgusted expression. _"Hey, do you want me to lie or something?" _

"No, I want you to tell me right now."

_"Well, it must suck to be you then,"_ he replied casually, as he turned towards the open window. However, Sigurd paused and dispelled the set of iron bars on the window._ "Well, seeing as how you are my descendent and all,"_ he said stiffly,_ "I suppose I might as well let you let you a bit."_

Harry's face drew into a triumphed smile; however, it faded instantly the moment he saw Sigurd wave his finger and a large thick silver bound book appeared out of thin air and dropped down onto his bed.

_"Well, that should do the trick,"_ said Sigurd,_ "The book has the complete history of our family line, as well as some other useful blood based curses. I suggest you get a move on it, the book in quite long from what I remember."_ And with that said, Sigurd disappeared in a flourish of darkness.

"Damn it," cursed Harry, "That bloody fool wants me to_ read?_"

* * *

**An hour later**

* * *

Harry flopped tiredly into his raggedly old colt before letting out a sigh of relief. The moment Sigurd left, his Aunt Petunia had charged into his room armed with a saucer-pan, screaming her head off. And from what he'd been able to decipher from her horrible screeches, she was_ furious_ that he'd woken up late and had made her_ precious_ Dudley_ starve._

Personally though, he believed that his whale of a cousin would actually benefit from skipping a few meals. Dudley had already grown so...eh...wide, that he could no longer even_ sit_ in a chair without causing it to collapse.

Unfortunately enough, his aunt did not share the same opinion, much to his chagrin. So a few bruises later, Harry had managed to sneak away from the kitchen and return back into his room...his prison...his sanctuary. He chuckled lightly at the thought, as his eyes darkened bitterly.

Dumbledore.

The one and only name that had every produced such a whirlwind of emotions within him. A man whose twinkling blue glaze had always captivated him, blinding in their light. He had once looked up to the headmaster, he had_ trusted_ him. Harry had always taken Dumbledore's words at face value, he had always believed that the headmaster knew best.

And he'd just recently discovered, what a gullible fool he'd once been.

Dumbledore was_ using_ him. The weapon that the Sirus had mentioned the previous year was_ him, _Harry. And truthfully, he didn't know how he felt about it. Sure he_ hated_ the headmaster for keeping him in the dark, but could he really blame the man. If their positions were switched, Harry would have been hard pressed to make such a decision.

Yes, Dumbledore_ was_ doing it for the greater good...for the protection of the wizarding world. Harry shook his head sadly. But...did the man have to betray him like this? Deserting him in his relatives house like a scrap, only to reclaim him when he was needed.

Did the end _really_ justify the means?

Harry sighed as he propped himself on his elbows and edged towards the silver-bound book. A soft laugh emerged from his lips, as he stared with haunted eyes at the book. Was it worth it to kill a person just to save another? He closed his eyes. No...it was not. Sacrifice just wasn't worth it, after all...it isn't right to play god.

His finger trailed down the ebony spine of the book, carefully tracing the silvery cursive that sparkled slightly. _"**The Legacy of Aeolus,"**_ he whispered softly. Harry licked his lips nervously as he reached out towards the golden crusted clasp. Was he willing to turn away from the Light's ideals? To risk losing the tenuous friendship between them, the 'Golden Trio?'

Is freedom worth the risk?

Harry studied the ceiling with care. He truthfully didn't know anymore, for he'd been living his entire life based upon a lie. A lie fabricated by Dumbledore in the pretense of being "for his own good." Harry shook his head sadly. Truthfully, there was nothing more in the world that he wanted then to escape from this hell-hole and leave magical Britain to dig itself out of its own grave.

But...he couldn't.

Even if his friends had betrayed him from time to time, he still cared. And_ this_ was the part that Harry hated the most about his personality...his compassion. He might not be fond of them all the time; however, he did not want them dead. As of such, this was the only reason as to why Harry had not already escaped from his 'home'. He need to stay strong, to...protect the ones he loved.

Harry snorted to himself. At the moment, there were quite few people have managed to remain on his good side after...Sirus...had died. But, compassion or no, the main reason he'd stayed was for revenge pure and simple.

Voldemort had taken everything from him. His parents, at the mere age of one and now his godfather Sirus. By gods, how he_ hated_ the man. Before the end of the year, he believed that he truly hated Voldemort with all his heart...god, what a stupid fool he'd once been. While growing up, he had merely_ disliked_ the man for murdering his parents. Harry had no idea what true hate actually was...

...until now.

With a shaky hand, Harry slowly unclasped the lock and winced in pain. Much to his surprise, the golden clasp had suddenly grown fangs and snapped furiously at him. Without wasting as second, Harry quickly drew back; however, he was too slow and his entire left hand was caught within the monstrosities' fangs.

Harry hissed with pain as the sharp fangs dug deeper and deeper into his skin until it drew blood. He watched with morbid fascination as his life's blood drained out of him into the book. His entire arm was burning...

And then suddenly, the pain stopped. Harry blinked in surprise as he slowly raised his hand up for inspection. It was completely unblemished, save for the thin scar spelling the words 'I will not tell lies' which traced its way across the top of his hand.

Had he_ imagined_ the pain?

Harry shook his head slightly to clear his muddled mind. 'Had he suddenly turned_ batty_ like Dumbledore?' He shuddered at the thought. Things were already bad enough as it is, and the_ last_ thing he wanted was to question his_ own_ sanity. Harry tried desperately to rid himself of the image of becoming the 'Next Albus Dumbledore,' fit with a set of glowing neon green and pink robes.

As of such, it was only reasonable that he didn't notice the tingling feeling that was slowly creeping up his forearm.

Hesitantly, Harry reached out and quickly tossed open the book...

* * *

**Lord of Aeolus, of times past and beyond, heed my words.**

**_Death falls upon us and our line. The world that we're created and cherished has turned against us. For in the eyes of our beloveds, we are the culprits, the scapegoats to their faults. A fault that they have brought upon themselves. And death is their reprieve. The world had long forgotten the old ways and of creatures of lore. _**

**_Heir of my blood and loins, beware. _**

**_With power comes danger and a nightmare beyond imagination. Nothing comes without a price...especially the gifts and curse of our bloodline. A power that is as beautiful as it is deadly. A power that was destined to be yours..._**

**_Heir, you have been warned. _**

**_Horus Celaeno Aeolus _**

* * *

Harry blinked in surprise. "Heir of Aeolus?" he repeated dumbly as he stared blankly at the page. Was this the cursed family line that Sigurd was talking about? The one that he had somehow descended from? Harry tilted his head slightly as he reread the warning.

_Power._

The one word that screamed out at him. The one word that could very well change the course of his life. He_ needed_ to become stronger to survive. Right now, he was no match for Voldemort. Hell, he'd be lucky to win a straight out duel against Voldemort's inner circle. The only spells he currently had under his arsenal were pretty much fifth year curses. Simple, yet effective.

But it wasn't enough...

And at that thought, Harry slowly turned the page...

* * *

A/N: Cliffe? evil smile naw...I guess I'm too nice for_ tad..._

* * *

...and was surprised to see a pamphlet written on papayas paper.

**Popular History: **

_**Beneath the waning moon, upon the first stroke of twilight, the line of Aeolus was born. Upon that day of renown, flurries of darkness rejoiced at the coming of their Lord, their true king. A boy who had been prophesied to bring upon a new age to the world, an age of darkness and misery. A boy of innocence. **_

Harry blinked a few times as he skimmed the text. He frowned slightly before flipping over the book and glancing towards the title. 'Did that bloody fool give him a_ fairy _tale book of all things to read?' This couldn't be about his family, it was just too..._weird._ With a determined look, Harry sighed before returning back to the book.

**_As legend goes, this prophecy child eventually transformed into the Dark Lord Aeolus. Numerous historians have sought to depict Lord Aeolus's reign of terror; however, none have ever managed to nick the truth. Lord Aeolus was an enigma. A man of many talents, secrets, and powers. He murdered, killed, and slaughter without a second thought; however, he of all people was the one who built the foundations of our magical society. It Aeolus's very hands that has shaped and molded our very way of life. Some looked up to him like a God, a leader with boundless wisdom and power. Others saw him as a tyrant who drained the blood of his people until the plains were soaked in their life's blood. _ **

**_However, Lord Aeolus was none of these. He was merely a mortal who was gifted with a tremendous amount of power. That is...until the fortnight he found his wife and elder child covered in their life's blood. Dead. And it was at this moment, that historians would most likely agree to the fact that Lord Aeolus went mad. Though it has not been proven, rumor has it that during this period, Lord Aeolus created the dark beings called the Dementors. Why were they made? To this day, Historians are still not aware. Though it is believed that Lord Aeolus created them as an army to avenge his wife and family's death. And legend has it, that he is still alive and watching the descendents of his family's murderers...waiting for the perfect moment to enact his revenge._**

Harry couldn't help but snort in disbelief. 'What a load of bull,' he thought disdainfully. Without a second thought, Harry slammed the book shut and slumped back against his bed. There was no way that_ this_ of all things was his family legacy. His father's family, the Potters were all Light wizards. It was absolutely impossible that the Potter line was descended from a_ Dark Lord, _of all things. It was preposterous. With a slight laugh, Harry closed his eyes and let out a sigh of relief.

And in his carelessness, Harry did not see the pair of golden eyes that flashed dangerously out from behind the keyhole of the book's intricately decorated lock...

* * *

A/N: cheers Yea, I've finally updated! Took me long enough. Anyways, I hoped ya liked the story! If you have time or get bored check out my other fics:

Darkly Treacherous

Light in the Shadows

Spell of Time

Seductive Darkness

Don't forget to R/R! Thanx again!

lub

xxlostdreamerxz


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